


This Feeling Inside.

by jamespotterstardis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 12:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17203274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamespotterstardis/pseuds/jamespotterstardis
Summary: Sherlock wants to confess his feelings to John but he doesn't know how.





	This Feeling Inside.

**Author's Note:**

> My first forway into the Johnlock territory  
> See, I am still alive I've just been pretty busy and it took a while to find the right ending.

"I love you to the moon and back. No, I sound like an adolescent teenage girl and I don't see how that is scientifically possible. I care very deeply about you. Not enough .. sentiment? My heartbeat increases when looking at you. No, that’s not right either. Upon looking at you, my pupils dilate. Too scientific." Sherlock fell heavily onto his armchair, steepled his fingers beneath his chin and faced the other occupant of the room.

"You're meant to be helping me. Well in this case I suppose I can be called stupid a little, a rare feat indeed, as I am asking advice from a one year on how to court - _do people still use that phrase_?" Sherlock glanced at the baby, who was sat on the rug, surrounded by toys, paused for a few seconds then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You can say a number of words such as _dada_ , _skull_ , I don't think your father has of yet forgiven me for that, _ma-da_ , your attempt at saying murder, again your father doesn't like the fact that you say that word constantly, and finally _bear_ your favourite teddy that you insist on carting around everywhere." He forewent his position on the sofa in favour of kneeling in front of his best friends daughter. 

"Nevertheless, I'm asking your advice. How do I tell him that he's better than any 1O crime scene? That my brain as good as stops when ever he's in close vicinity? He doesn't mind my early morning violin playing, less so now you're here, my shooting the walls when I'm bored, the experiments. He has a number of rooms in my mind palace and they are all about him. His different smiles, 221 and still counting, the different tones in which he speaks; abrupt, happy, sleepy, that military one, _the way my names sounds when he says it_ , his laugh, our giggling at crime scenes, that thing he does with his eyes when he's happy. It's all John, John, John. And yet there's still more data to gather. I wouldn't be able to function without him. That's a lie, I probably could but I wouldn't want to. It's always been him. Meeting Dr John Watson will forever be one of the greatest things that will ever happen to me. Now, little Watson, how do I convey all that to your father?"

"You just did."

Sherlock turned rather quickly towards the door. There, in his usual jumper and plain trousers, stood a rather misty eyed John Watson holding a shopping bag in one hand and his phone in the other. 

_Was it?_ It was. The ex-army doctor had recorded his entire confession.

 _ **Perfect**_.

He could feel the blush on his cheeks and the pounding of his heartbeat echoed in his ears.

It was up to John but Sherlock knew it would go one of three ways; they'd ignore it and attempt to go back to normal, he would take Rosie and they would both leave or, _and this was the least likely to happen_ , John would reciprocate his feelings.

The only sound was of Rose babbling to herself.

With every second of silence that past Sherlock could feel, if indeed were possible and it sure felt like it now, his heart dropping. John didn't reciprocate. 

Sherlock bowed his head and made to stand up, but was stopped by a look from John. He then settled on the rug with Rosie, enjoying what could be the final moments with her.

Out of the corner of his eye, the consulting detective saw his flat mate drop the shopping rather heavily on the floor, by the wince on his face the eggs had broken though neither was that concerned, and make his way to the middle of the room. John sat in front of Sherlock, with baby Rosie in the middle unconcerned with what was happening with the two adults, and was now eye level with him.

John was the first to break eye contact and shifted his gaze to his daughter. 

"Rosie, how do I tell the other man in your life that he's amazing, fantastic and brilliant? Though those words don't do him justice. They should invent a word just for him. He could do it, Sherlock did invent his own job after all, what's a word compared to that. It physically _hurts_ when the Yarders call him names, I think they do it because they don't quite know what to make of him, but its wrong. Those small minded people don't see him the way I do, the way I always have. They don't see the happiness on his face when he gets his target, they don't see how he is with Mrs Hudson, he always has a smile for her and, when he's in a good mood, a cuddle, they don't see him when your by his side, raising you as if you were his own, all they see is a machine with facts, figures and insults but he’s _so_ much more than that. I see him as a man, a man with the biggest heart I know, a man who I'm glad I met, a man who - _you, you just kissed me_."

"Bit not good?" Sherlock heavily breathed leaning back on his knees and licking his lips with a thoughtful expression, he could practically taste the ex-army doctor; tea and something that was uniquely John. It was ambrosia and addictive. 

"No, God, not at all." John said with a dazed look on his face. He opened his mouth several times before the words came. "It was amazing but this time let me kiss you back before you pull away."

"Okay." The detective and blogger both leaned forward, eager for another kiss. 

"Dada." interrupted Rose. John sighed and rested his forehead on Sherlock's, who had a small smile on his face.

"Perfect timing as always Rosie." He said, facing his daughter.

She babbled and waved her arms, a sure sign that she was about to say another word, and pointed to Sherlock. "Papa?"

"Yes, darling, he's your papa." Answered John not missing a beat with Sherlock adding, "For as long as you want me to be."


End file.
